The tears sprang blinding to her dry eyes, her head bent forward.
"And," she asked, as if the thought had not yet reached her understanding, "you will not go without--without me ?" "No; whatever the result, no." She lifted her face, white, haggard, and looked at him through the mist obscuring her eyes, no longer wide opened in wildness.
"Then I must go; I must go," she exclaimed, a shudder shaking her from head to foot; "God help me, I must go!" A moment she gazed blankly back toward the motionless body on the ground, the ghastly countenance upturned to the stars, her own face as white as the dead, one hand pressing back her dark hair.

She reeled from sudden faintness, yet, before he could touch her in support, she had sunk upon her knees, with head bowed low, the long tresses trailing upon the ground.
"Beth! Beth!" he cried in an agony of fear.
She looked up at him, her expression that of earnest pleading.
"Yes, yes, I will go," she said, the words trembling; "but--but let me pray first." He stood motionless above her, his heart throbbing, his own eyes lowered upon the ground.

He was conscious of the movement of her lips, yet could never afterward recall even a broken sentence of that prayer.
Possibly it was too sacred even for his ears, only to be measured by the infinite love of God.

She ceased to speak at last, the low voice sinking into an inarticulate whisper, yet she remained kneeling there motionless, no sound audible excepting her repressed sobbing.

Driven by the requirements of haste, Winston touched her gently upon the shoulder.
"Come, my girl," he said, the sight of her suffering almost more than he could bear.